


Happily Ever After

by Sophia_Bee



Series: Road Trip Fics [2]
Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Chocolate Yoohoo, Explicit Language, M/M, Sex, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 11:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2386352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Road Trip Fic. Warning: you are about to enjoy some Logan/Duncan slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happily Ever After

**Author's Note:**

> In going through my old V. Mars fics I wrote over a decade ago I have discovered I had a HUGE thing for road trip fics. I don't know why. 
> 
> Dedicated to Sadiekate. You know who you are.

They stay in cheap motels and live on chocolate Yoohoo and licorice until the sugar makes both of them edgy and jumpy and they laugh too much. Better than cocaine, Logan says as he shoves anther piece in his mouth and Duncan just shrugs and watched the lines flash by, lit by the headlights as they hurl through the darkness. He’s not convinced they don’t need a better way to stop the pain: there’s a numbness missing without some way to alter the mind.

Logan never asks and Duncan never answers the question. But it hangs between them in the car, wondering if there’s room for forgiveness, seeking absolution. And their confessional is the back seat of the car parked on the side of the road, dust and tumbleweed stretching out in all directions, the sun beating down but Duncan doesn’t notice any of it because his mouth is full of cock and Logan is making those grunting noises that will haunt him later in his dreams.

Everything slips away on the road. There’s no trial, no cameras in his face, no one asking how he feels about his best friend’s dad killing his sister. There’s just wind blowing through the open window as Logan stares out into the hills covered in twilight and Duncan steals a glance at his profile, memorizing each line because he knows it’s all he’s going to have.

Logan pulls out his fake I.D. in the next one stop light town and they hit the liquor store. Duncan buys all Lilly’s favorites because it’s one of the ways he keeps her close to him. Logan buys scotch because that’s what his dad always drank and there’s part of him that knows that connection will never be broken. Not by the walls of prison. Not by Lilly’s brains splattered on cement. Not by Veronica’s screams from inside the freezer. He and Aaron are inextricably bound to each other and Duncan sees that when the anger surges across Logan’s face and his hand comes up, fist clenched. Then it drops to his side.

Because they’re not the same person.

The room smells like stale smoke and dirt but Duncan doesn’t have time to care about accommodations as Logan slams him against the cheap plywood bathroom door and kisses him hard with lots of tongue as he fingers pull down the zip on Duncan’s jeans.

He never hit girls, Logan tells him later as they are lying under the scratchy polyester comforter, interrupting Duncan’s contemplation of Logan’s nipple and his calculations on the best way to get Logan to give him a blowjob in the next ten minutes. And Logan tells him how Aaron’s anger was saved especially for him, how he would get to pick out which belt Aaron would use, how he always tried to pick the one that would hurt least. And how sometimes he would crave the pain and pick out the one he knew would be sure to break the skin. Duncan reaches up and smoothes away the tears that have appeared on Logan’s cheeks and something deep in his chest aches.

He was never supposed to need him like this.

It had started a long time ago, long before Lilly. It had been an easy transition for Duncan to reach over and slip his hands inside Logan’s boxers as they lay in his bed. After all, if he could get himself off, why not his best friend too? And he’d never forget the way Logan had gasped and come all over his hand. He’d jerked off to that one for weeks. All he’d needed was a whole lot of tequila the first time he’d blown him, pulling swim trunks down Logan’s hips, muttering that it was okay as he took him in his mouth but never telling him how much Duncan wanted this. And Duncan had wanted to pull Logan into his arms and stroke his hair afterward, but Lilly had come back from the store with a bag full of chips and orange soda, and Logan had jumped away from him when they heard her padding down the hall.

Duncan wondered if Lilly could see them now. Was she looking down from the stars, shocked that her brother loved the taste of her boyfriend’s cock? Or was she cheering them on from above.

There are never slow languorous kisses on warm afternoons, no matter how much Duncan wants them. There are never lazy Sundays and breakfast in bed. It’s always fucking and spit and come and the pressure of cock on cock and his face is pressing into the pillow as Logan’s fingers slip inside him.

After all, its just sex.

That’s what Duncan tells himself as he watches Logan bring the bottle of Yoohoo to his lips and tilt it back, his eyes following the lines of his neck. Sex. Fucking hot sex. He presses his foot onto the gas pedal and they speed toward nothing and Duncan wishes they could never go back. Just keep driving and fucking and maybe, after a long, long time, Logan will wrap his arms around him and roll over and finally tell him that he loves him. It’s a nice fantasy and fantasies are for little girls who dream about their prince and castles and white horses and simple plots that always end in happily ever after.

Duncan tell himself that he’s never believed in happily ever after, turns up the stereo and pretends that this is reality for just a while longer.

 


End file.
